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“And what are their positions?”
“Goalie, center…” She hesitated, trying to remember the rest. Think. She’d just read about the players and their positions last night. “Right and left something.” She cringed. Wow, she sounded real intelligent.
“Left and right wings,” he said with a smile.
Right, those position names had made her think of birds. “And two defensemen.” She gave herself a mental pat on the back and hoped he didn’t ask her to go into each player’s responsibilities.
“You got it. Do ya remember what each one does?”
Oh well, so much for that wish. “The goalie tries to keep the puck out of the net. The right wing is responsible for the right side of the ice.” She had the goalie part right; as far as the rest, she was grasping at straws.
“That’s part of it. If ya want, I can give you a quick crash course.”
If it meant she could listen to his voice, her answer was a resounding yes. “I’m all ears. Go for it.”
Like an encyclopedia of all things hockey, Rock launched into an easy-to-understand explanation of what each player did before he started on the general rules of the game. From time to time, she interrupted with a question, but truthfully she enjoyed listening to his voice too much to stop him. Only when dinner arrived did their conversation slow down as they ate.
Her friends didn’t know what they were missing by not eating barbecue. Resisting the urge to lick some sauce from her thumb, she grabbed a napkin. Across from her, Rock finished off the rib in his hand and reached for another one. Much like the rest of him, his hands were large and tanned, making her wonder if he spent a lot of time outside. Right now she wouldn’t mind having a little of his color. Every winter she turned into a pale ghost until the spring rolled around and she could spend time outdoors again. Thanks to the milder temps, she’d started spending more and more time outside this month, but her color had a long way to go. Judging by the color in his hands and face, it didn’t look like the weather kept him stuck inside.
“Anything else I need to know before the game?” Allison pulled open a wet napkin so she could wipe her sticky fingers. If she ate another bite, she’d explode, and she’d only eaten about a quarter of her meal. Judging by the size of their portions, the restaurant thought they were serving giants.
“I gave ya the basics, and if ya don’t understand something later, just ask.”
“Fair enough.” She glanced briefly at her ringing cell, which stuck out of her purse’s front pocket. No phone number was displayed, only the words ‘no caller ID.’ Whoever was calling either had an unlisted number or knew someway to keep it from showing up. Since it wasn’t a relative and she couldn’t think of anyone who would need to talk to her now, she ignored the phone. Tomorrow, when she went through her lazy Sunday morning routine, she’d call whoever it was back.
Rock dropped the bone he’d cleaned off and reached for a wet napkin too. “Gonna answer that?” he asked, once again replacing a words proper ending with an ‘a’ instead.
“I’ll call them back tomorrow.” The music from her phone stopped. “If we’re hungry after the game, I thought we could stop at Carolina’s Bakery. Their tiramisu isn’t as good as at your grandfather’s bakery, but it’s a close second.”
“Customers love his recipe. Between you and me, I hate tiramisu.”
“Not a very good Italian, are you?”
“Can’t stand calamari either. When I was a kid and my Nonna served it, I’d give it to my brother, Jon, when she wasn’t looking so I could still get dessert. She had this thing about not getting anything else until you cleared your plate.”
The image of him passing off his food when his grandmother turned her back made her smile. “I won’t tell her. And everything else at Carolina’s is delicious too.”
“Whatever you want tonight, I’m up for it.”
The smartphone she’d ignored moments ago started up again with the same message on the screen.
Rock plucked the phone from her purse and handed it to her. “Someone wants ya. Take it. I don’t mind.”
“It’s probably some reporter trying to get information about Jake and Charlie’s son. They’ve refused to give out any pictures or details about Garret, and the media doesn’t like being left out.” Without answering it, she turned off the phone and stuck it back into her purse. “I’m not ruining our night by talking to them. Let them leave a message.” Grabbing his hand, she gave it a squeeze. “Come on, let’s see how much I learned from you so far tonight.”
***
On a scale of one to ten with a one being a “I’d rather being sorting my sock drawer than out with this guy” and a ten being “Please don’t let this night end,” the evening ranked at a nine. If not for the permanent chill that had seeped into her body, she would’ve given the night a ten. And the chill was her fault. She’d bought tickets to an ice hockey game. Ice, the keyword in the sentence. She should’ve considered it would be chilly inside the arena when she’d picked her clothes for the night. Instead she’d been more concerned with looking nice. Next time she’d know better. And there would be a next time if she had anything to say about it.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been on a date and just been herself. Not once during dinner or the ride into DC had she worried Rock was with her because of some personal ambitions. When he asked questions, she hadn’t worried a wrong answer would somehow find its way into the media. Although he hadn’t asked a ton of questions, the ones he had asked had been direct and personal without being intrusive. While she had nothing to hide, some information she’d rather not share on a first date. A lot of men she went out with didn’t understand that. Perhaps they thought, since the media butted into her family’s life so much, they could too. Men like that didn’t get a second date. And already she was planning out a second date with Rock, assuming he was open to the idea. She got the definite impression he would be.
On the ice, player number ten got possession of the puck and skated down the rink toward the net. Allison scooted to the edge of her seat, unable to look away. If the player made the goal, it would put the Capitals up and she wanted them to win. After all, they were the home team, since she now lived in the area.
She cringed when a player from the other team checked number ten, and then she almost laughed. She’d expected to hate hockey and find it as boring as soccer, a sport both her and Derek had tried as kids. While Derek had loved it and gone on to play for several years, she’d begged her parents to let her quit before the season hit the halfway point. Despite her pleas, they’d made her finish out the season, insisting she’d made a commitment to the team. After that experience, she’d avoided traditional team sports and stuck with dancing and tennis.
Oddly though, she didn’t hate hockey or find it boring. Actually, if she’d known she was going to enjoy the game this much, she would’ve given it a try a long time ago. Of course some of her enjoyment might be due to her company for the evening.
Throughout the first half of the game, Rock continued his lessons. As soon as the players took the ice, he pointed out which player was in what position. If a penalty got called and it wasn’t obvious why, he explained it. Once or twice she almost asked him questions just to hear his voice. With a voice like his, the man should be doing television commercials and narrating books or something.
